Untitled
by SkyFire2
Summary: During a Council between the four Elven realms, Thranduil has... a slight problem. Poor Thranduil. *grin* Please R/R.


[Untitled Thranduil-Fic]  
By SkyFire  
  
Rating: PG (Or 'G' *shrugs* Depends how you look at it.)  
Genre: Humor/Angst (What is it with me and humor/angst?? *grin*)  
  
Summary: During a Council between the four Elven realms, Thranduil has... a slight problem. Poor   
Thranduil. *grin*  
  
Warnings: None? ;oP  
Archiving: Ask first!!  
Disclaimer: Not mine. *sigh* Never were. *sob* Rub it in, why don't you? :oP  
  
Author's Notes:   
(1)The Setting: A meeting of the leaders of the four great Elven Realms of Middle-earth. Here's   
who is there for each realm (in case you were wondering. You don't really need to know this, as I   
refer to them mostly as a collective ("the Elf-Lords"). But just in case anyone wanted to know:  
For Rivendell: Elrond, Glorfindel.  
For Lothlorien: Celeborn. (Galadriel stayed in 'Lorien.)  
For Mirkwood: Thranduil.  
For Havens: Cirdan  
  
(2)Title suggestions are *more* than welcome. :o) I tried to think of one, but every one I came   
up with would go better with other fic sitting on my computer. *sigh*  
  
(3)Thoughts are in // //.  
  
Hope you enjoy the fic, and don't forget to review! :o)  
  
*****  
[Untitled Thranduil-Fic]  
By SkyFire  
  
Elrond growled under his breath, glaring. The object of his annoyance sat oblivious to his ire,   
staring down at the table, hiding behind a veil of golden hair. That veil was not enough to hide   
the near-constant shaking of his shoulders, nor the occasional muffled sound.  
  
"Thranduil," Elrond growled, eyes blazing. "Perhaps you would like to share with the rest of us   
just *what* exactly there is about the current problem that you seem to find so hilarious?"  
  
Celeborn, sitting beside the convulsing Mirkwood king, was equally annoyed at that Elf's behavior.   
"Indeed," he said, voice chill. "I for one would like to know what it is that amuses you so."  
  
Thranduil only shook his head, another muffled sound escaping him, still shaking.  
  
By now, even the normally calm Cirdan was becoming annoyed. "Thranduil, this is most unbecoming.   
Either share the cause of your mirth or cease."  
  
One slender hand rose up into the concealing mass of gold, even as Thranduil shook his head   
silently once more.  
  
"Enough!" Elrond said in open irritation. Their council was almost certainly ended for the day   
due to Thranduil's childishness. One more day wasted when the orcish threat had to be faced and   
dealt with as soon as possible. "Thranduil, look at me!"  
  
Such was the command in the Half-Elf's voice that Thranduil had obeyed before he even consciously   
registered the order, his hair falling away from his face as he did so.  
  
The other Elves stared.  
  
Thranduil sat there, shaking uncontrollably every few seconds, one hand covering his mouth,   
unconscious tears running down his face.  
  
Celeborn, his irritation forgotten at seeing the obvious distress on the Elvenking's face,   
reached out and lay a comforting hand on his shaking shoulder. "What ails you, Thranduil?" he   
asked gently.  
  
Thranduil looked around, seeing the shock and curiosity in their eyes, where before he had heard   
only anger and irritation. He took his hand away from his mouth, spoke. "I have- *HIC* -ow!" He   
grimaced, rubbing at his sore sternum. "I have- *HIC* - OW!"  
  
The other Elves stared, shocked. Then, as Thranduil shook with the force of yet another hiccup,   
and another, Elrond chuckled, soon joined by the others.   
  
The King of Mirkwood glared at them all, but the effect was somewhat lessened by the convulsive   
hiccups that shook him every few moments. "Per-*HIC*-edhel, you *HIC* are a *HIC* healer. So   
*HIC* heal me!"  
  
All at once, the Elves were all speaking.  
  
"Get a big glass of water-"  
  
"-honey-"  
  
"-is that not milk?"  
  
"-a spoon-"  
  
"-stand on your head-"  
  
"-knows you are supposed to hold your breath!"  
  
"-mother says a spoon of sugar-"  
  
"-no, no! Drinking out of the far side of the glass-"  
  
"-upside down-"  
  
"-*far* side? Why won't it all spill out?"  
  
"Enough!" Thranduil shouted, abruptly silencing the babble. "I- *HIC* -OW! Get me some *HIC*   
water!"  
  
Soon, a tall glass of water arrived. Thranduil took it, brought it to his lips and drank. Soon,   
he needed to breathe, but when he went to lower the glass, Celeborn tilted it back up, his   
fingers on the bottom of the glass, forcing Thranduil to keep drinking or drown.   
  
Face purpling from lack of air, Thranduil swallowed as fast as he could, unsuccessfully trying to   
bat away Celeborn's hand with his own free hand. At last he was done, and Celeborn released his   
hold.   
  
Immediately, Thranduil put the glass down on the table, gasping in deep gulps of air, his face   
slowly returning to its normal color. For a long moment, there was silence. Then-   
  
"*HIC*!"  
  
Thranduil groaned, burying his head under his arms on the table.  
  
***  
  
A half-hour later, the original purpose of the meeting was all but forgotten as the gathering of   
mighty Elf lords battled valiantly against Thranduil's hiccups... and lost.  
  
They had tried everything they could think of- up to and including standing Thranduil on his head,   
having him clench a stick between his teeth and drink out the far side of a glass of water while   
they mercilessly tickled his sides. Most of the water had indeed fallen out of the glass, and   
consequently up his nose, nearly drowning him.  
  
And still the hiccups persisted.  
  
Glorfindel sat at his place at the table, silently watching the other Lords in their efforts to   
cure Thranduil. At times, it was hard to keep the laughter in, but he managed. All the while, he   
tried to think up the various ways that he had been cured of the hiccups, drawing on the memories   
of two lifetimes. It was not easy; so far he could remember having had them only twice- once when   
he was just an Elfling //But a tall glass of water hadn't worked for Thranduil!//, and once when   
he was grown.   
  
//When was that? Ah, yes. Gondolin. How did I cure those? ...Oh. The Balrog showed up.// He   
brightened. //Fear! They have tried everything but scaring him! But what would scare him enough?//   
That was simple enough to figure out; the same thing that would terrify any parent. Careful not   
to attract attention to himself, Glorfindel quietly sneaked out of the chamber to put his devious   
plan into motion.  
  
Thranduil sat in a miserable ball against one wall, the other lords of the Elven realms and their   
aides sitting silently around him, freshly out of ideas. All felt frustration at their inability   
to cure the Mirkwood Elf.  
  
"*HIC*!" Groan. "*HIC*!"  
  
They all looked up as the doors of the hall slammed open abruptly. As they watched, a young blond   
Elf in the colors of Mirkwood staggered into the room, moaning. His face was unnaturally pale and   
he was covered liberally in red. He was obviously severely wounded.  
  
Thranduil's eyes widened at the sight. Forgetting his misery as fear ran in icy through his veins,   
he leapt up and ran to the youth, who had staggered a few more steps into the room before falling   
to the floor where he now lay still. "Legolas!" he croaked as he ran.  
  
Then he reached the side of the fallen one, rolled him faceup on the floor, the other lords   
crowding around, Elrond pushing his way to the forefront, his Healer's instincts crying out to   
him to help.   
  
To their surprise, the young one smiled brightly up at Thranduil.  
  
"Hello, Ada!" he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Glorfindel said you needed help to get rid   
of your hiccups and that we needed to scare them out of you."  
  
Belatedly, the Lords registered the smell of crushed strawberries that permeated the air around   
the young Elf. As one, they turned to look to where Glorfindel stood near the doors.   
  
Seeing them all staring at him, the golden-haired Elf-Lord smiled brightly. "Are you cured,   
Thranduil?" he asked simply.  
  
Thranduil blinked. One eyebrow rose in astonishment. "Apparently so," he said. Then he stood,   
Legolas climbing to his feet beside him.  
  
"I am going to go wash now, Ada," Legolas said. "These berries are *sticky* and the flour on my   
face is tickling my nose!"  
  
Thranduil nodded, watched as the youth scampered off. Then he turned to Elrond. "I am guessing   
that the meeting will continue on the morrow?" he asked. At Elrond's confirmation, he nodded,   
then moved toward the door. Just before he left the Hall, he stopped to have a short word with   
Glorfindel, whispering into the other's elegantly pointed ear.  
  
The other lords did not know what the king of Mirkwood told Glorfindel, but they saw the   
twice-born Elf pale, his eyes growing huge in his bloodless face as Thranduil spoke.  
  
Then Thranduil left the hall, retiring to his assigned rooms to rest.  
  
He had barely been gone a few moments when the Lords were startled by a sound from the palefaced   
Glorfindel.  
  
"*HIC*!"  
  
"Get the water!"  
  
"-stand him on his head!"  
  
"*HIC"!!"   
  
Eyes wide at the sight of the lords coming after him, eager to do to him what he'd watched them   
do to Thranduil, Glorfindel turned and fled, running away as fast as he could, pursued zealously   
by helpful Elf-Lords.  
  
"*HIC*!"  
  
END  
Bet you'll never guess what I had yesterday. :oP Hey, if I have to suffer, so do Thranduil and   
Glorfindel! *grin*  
  
Anyways, you know the drill: if you liked it, click the button down there and leave a review! :oD   
Even if it's just a smiley. Reading reviews makes the plotbunnies and I very happy! :o) 


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